


The song in his heart

by Amieari



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-26 15:32:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9908867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amieari/pseuds/Amieari
Summary: Concerning the hearts of elves and dwarves. A drabble.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from. It just appeared one evening. Hope you enjoy.

Legolas would say it was under the branches of the Mallorn trees in the peaceful kingdom of Lothlorien that he lost his heart. Amongst the roots of those great trees, amid songs sung by his cousins. A kinder place to grieve and find their feet again than anywhere else in Middle Earth. 

Legolas had no need to find his feet. His heart, on the other hand, he found despite himself.

There was no build up. No advance of friendship that would lead him on a long journey of trust and learning to care for a creature he'd never dared to spend to long thinking of before. A creature, even, that he had been groomed to ignore and look down upon.

No. He lost his heart absolutely and utterly to Gimli the dwarf while the other still barely acknowledged his presence, never mind his worth. 

There was no ignoring this dwarf. His grief seemed as old and as terrible as any elf's. There was old loss and new loss together in his surprisingly sharp eyes, as well as tears that he did not allow to fall.

Legolas was so moved that he sat near his companion's still form, trying at least to give comfort by his nearness. He was never sure if it had any affect on the dwarf, but the others seemed to take heart that he was with them. He indulged in song, what he could without stripping his own grief too raw.

Sitting beside Gimli was like taking shelter in the lee of a mountain. His strength felt rooted in the earth, even this far up off the ground in a leafy bower. Legolas had sat near to give comfort, but he found himself staying to gain comfort. He was sheltered.

He even slept.

And when he awoke he felt strange. Like he was not whole, and would never be whole again. 

It is said that the Mirkwood elves were wiser than the rest of their kin, but also much more terrible. They were enamoured of song as the rest of the elves, but their songs were darker, more tragic and less playful. Their wisdom had come at a cost. When they sung of love, they also sung of loss and sacrifice and tragedy. 

His father hadn't sung of love in centuries.

When he woke that morning, however, Legolas Thrandulion felt a song in his heart that hadn't been there when he'd gone wandering in his mind the night before. It was a heavy song, a low rumbling vibration that stilled his panicked reaction and held him with an inner warmth. 

It felt deep and grounded and made him feel sluggish and weighted. He could do nothing at first but sit there and gasp. His limbs would not listen to him. They felt as stone.

When he could lift himself a bit and turn his head, he was rendered breathless. The song was not just within his heart, it was coming from beside him, low and melodious. 

Gimli was singing of love and loss.

And Legolas was powerless to deny him either.

\---------

For Gimli, it had been in the middle of battle when his heart became clear to him. Helm's Deep to be precise. 

This didn't come as a surprise. At least not to a son of Durin, a warrior with a fierce soul. His culture was full of many, many such tales. Love found in battle, love lost in battle. Tragedy mixed with great deeds and deep emotions. 

 _He loved; He lost._  Were so common they almost became irreversibly linked in song and story. As fierce as a dwarrow could love, he could loose. And the middle of a battle, while poetic in theory, in practice was no place for such things to be revealed.

That didn't change the fact that the very first time they faced battle together, Gimli son of Gloin looked to his friend, Legolas of Greenwood and saw the other half of his soul. 

It wasn't a shock. It felt like he had always known. That he had kept himself in the dark and now that he could see it was like he had always been able to see. Like he had been tied to this beautiful creature from birth, and had finally been allowed to view the connection. 

When he got separated and took refuge under the fortress and beheld the glittering caves, he thought for a moment that he was in a waking dream; His thoughts made reality. He gazed at the glittering walls as if they were the broken shards of his very self, hewn and shaped by the quest so far and shattered by his realization of love. Beautiful even when broken.

And how his love would smile at his poet's soul if only he knew. 

Being separated after such an epiphany was torture. 

The caves were beautiful, yes. But all he yearned for was to gaze upon was the battle-roughened other half of his soul. 

He had no patience for internal monologues, pretty poetry or reflection now. He was a creature of action (though words usually served him well) and like any other dwarf who had felt the pull of his One, wanted to shout about it aloud with vigour to every stone he touched.

Or preferably to the object of his affections from within a claiming embrace.

The coming of morning, the return of Gandalf with reinforcements, the triumph of the battle; These paled in comparison to the glimpse of Legolas through crowds of men.

Just a glance and that thread of connection pulled taut. 

He felt like he could sing.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one sitting, just for fun. It's been a few years since I read the books; all spelling/timeline mistakes are all mine.   
> (I just finished reading The Hobbit to my daughter and felt like exploring middle earth for a bit. We'll read LOTR next and I'll be suitably embarrassed by this later haha)


End file.
